Fighting For Air
by CrazyDisasterForKicks
Summary: Mike Warren hasn't been able to breathe for a long time. He needs someone to hold onto so he can get up everyday. Paul Briggs just happens to be the man up for the job. Slash. Mike Warren/Paul Briggs.


**Spoilers up to 1x04.**

**Word Count:** 1,893

**Fighting for Air**

He can't breathe. His tongue feels thick and heavy and his throat is closing in panic. He drags in breath after breath and its never enough. He can't _breathe_. He hasn't been able to breathe since Eddie committed suicide. He doesn't want to be here anymore-not in the middle of a major undercover operation or investigating his partner. Nothing seems fair anymore.

He was almost ready to beg to be transferred to his DC post. This just wasn't worth it anymore. People are dying around him, dropping like flies. He doesn't particularly care that everyone dying is technically a bad guy. In the end, that didn't matter, it only mattered that they were dead and Mike's hands were coated in blood.

He choked down the rising panic, drawing in a desperate gulp of air, trying to force it down to his lungs. He needed to breathe. He couldn't though. He was trying so hard and everything was just fading in and out and his head was pounding. The dull sense of panic was rising in his gut but he couldn't think of that. All he could think of was the way Eddie had taken his gun and shot himself with it.

The sound of the shot resonated with him, chilling him down to his very core. Mike scrambled at his bed sheets, trying to find purchase on something, willing himself to connect with reality. Earlier he wasn't able to even go and enjoy a drink after a hard day at work. The sound of the bullet penetrating skull repeated like a broken record player. It fucked him up more than he was willing to admit.

Mike stops desperately grabbing at his bed sheets and stilled. His thoughts are racing and his body is suffocating but he can't bring himself to actually care. Would anyone even miss me? Mike wants to laugh, he can imagine that broken laugh that would pass his lips. He's heard it before, but never has it been because he was wondering if his new housemates liked him.

Mike turned on his side, air coming to him a little easier now that he had calmed down just a little. He bit his lips and took a shallow breath. _It doesn't matter if they like me_, he thought to himself, _I'm here to get a job done. Not to make life long friends. _

Not that Mike would know what life long friends were all about. He'd never had someone who stuck with him through it all. Friends tended to leave him a lot and Mike couldn't bring himself to care. He sucked in another lung full of air and rejoiced when he realized he was breathing.

He closed his eyes, begging for some peaceful sleep. But when was anything in life kinda enough to let him have a dreamless sleep? He woke up screaming, arms wrapping around his waist, tugging him not a hug. That didn't matter though, the feeling of being held disappeared into the back ground as Eddies open eyes haunted him.

He couldn't even tell himself it was just a bad dream. He had lived it, he had lived and Eddie had died. He's gasping for air again and this time it's not coming. His tongue is blocking his air pipe and he feels the massive wave of panic rising faster than ever. The arms around him tighten and Mike opens his eyes, searching for something to latch onto. His hearing is blocked by the sound of his own heartbeat. It seemed to be beating too fast and he could feel the pain that was blooming in his chest cavity. His heart was trying to escape and his lungs were burning with the need for oxygen.

Mike struggled against the arms holding him, wildly trying to escape. He wonders if he's making noise, he couldn't possibly be, he would need air to make noise, and he didn't have any air anymore.

He couldn't _breathe_. He was going to _die. _He was never going to be able to learn how to surf or he to get the occupants of the household to actually like him and trust him completely. He doesn't even know if they should actually trust him.

One of the arms that had held him started to rub his back, whispers getting through the sound of his heart beating wildly out of control.

_"It'll be okay, Mikey." _Mike clutched the shoulders of the man trying to help him. "_Just listen to the sound of my voice. Come on, you're stronger than this Levi._"

Mike just clings tighter, trying to pull air into his body. It feels like he's been dying for hours, a never-ending stream of pain just washing over him again and again. He knows he hasn't though-been dying for hours. It's probably been less than five minutes since he's been having problems with breathing.

The constant stream of soothing whispers makes him calm down, the panic retreating but not fully gone. It's there, lurking right under the surface of his skin. He just knows its waiting for the next moment when he lets his guard down and then it'll attack again, and he'll be unable to stop it next time.

Mike clears his throat and awkwardly shifts in the arms holding him and closes his eyes, breathing in the person surrounding him. He clutches tighter, eyes screwed shut as tight as possible, he knows the arms around him, he knows he knows and he's afraid to open his eyes. If he opens them again he knows that it won't be real. It can't be real.

He sniffs, barely holding back he tidal wave of emotions that are threatening to completely overwhelm him. "Tha-" Mike clears his throat, voice sounding as if he had spent hours screaming. "Thanks, Briggs." He muttered, face plastered to the mans neck.

Briggs pushes Mike back a little, tilting his face up and staring for a bit longer than Mike was strictly okay with. "Anytime," Briggs says, eyes scanning Mike's face. He looked worried and Mike scarcely noticed how Briggs had yet to let go of him. His body was like a furnace and Mike couldn't help but be grateful for that fact.

Briggs looked at Mike again, meeting his eyes seriously. "We've all been there, Mikey. We were all green once and every single one of us in this house have seen things that made us break. You can't let it break you for good though, you're now a federal agent. You have to be able to let this shit roll of your back and just keep moving forward. Shit happens and this is just another day on the job." He pulled Mike closer, bringing him flush against a hard chest.

Briggs moved his mouth next to Mikes ear, breath hot. "You have to be able to get up every morning and forgive yourself. You have to be able to understand that it's not your fault. You have to find someone that you're willing to share the weight of the world with." Briggs took a deep breath, slightly running his hand up and down Mikes back. "If you don't have someone you're willing to get up for everyday then this job is going to be so much more difficult. I can't even begin to express what it feels like to not have someone to wake up for every day, to get back out in the field so you can protect them. We risk our lives on a daily basis, Mike, and we need someone there to help us realize that it's for a good cause."

Mike nodded, and pushed away from the death grip Briggs had on him. "We all need someone to help us out, huh. What about Charlie? Or Johnny?" Mike breathed in and felt the similar sensation of not getting enough air. Clenching his fists, he took a deep, a slow drag of oxygen, forcing himself to calm down. Unwanted the sight of Eddie laying on th pavement came to the front of his mind. He winced, sharply breathing in. It physically fucking hurt to remember the dead man-his lungs ached from the lack of oxygen and his chest hurt from the rapid beating of his heart. Mike didn't even like him, in fact he down right despised the man...but, he had been the one to make him kill himself.

He didn't think he would ever be able to get over that. He would have to though. This was his job now and he had to keep pushing, needed to wake up in the morning and feel the need to go protect people burning in his veins. He needed to...he needed Briggs.

No matter how little the man actually explained about himself, or now laid back he seemed, he needed someone too. And Mike knew what he felt around Briggs, he felt safe.

It didn't even matter that the FBI want to make a case against Briggs. All Mike knew was this man had saved his life and he had been slowly coming to trust him.

Glancing around the room, Mike saw nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing suggested this was all a dream. As far as he's aware, this is real. And Briggs on his bed, with that damn emotionless face, is staring right at him. Questioning him if he gets it, if the rookie understands everything that's on the table at the moment. Mike nods slightly and deliberately heads to the bed and sinks down in front of Briggs, on his knees.

"So you're saying I need someone?"

"Yes, you do." Briggs's voice is rougher than usual. His eyes have rings around them and he's sporting a slightly pale color. Mike frowns at him.

"You haven't been sleeping," he accuses him. Running his fingers down the side of Briggs's face.

"We aren't here to talk about me." His mouth is set in a stern line and Mike knows that Briggs hated that he had tried to turn the topic around.

Mike frowns, shifting his weight from one knee to the other. "I'm just saying," he mutters, "you need someone too." There's a hitch in the other man's breathing and Mike moves closer, firmly settled between Briggs' legs. Mike wets his lips, heart rate skyrocketing. He plants his hands firmly on the other mans hips and looks him right in the eyes.

"What if I want my reason for getting out of bed in the morning to be you?"

A strangled groan worked its way out of Briggs and the next thing Mike knew was the press of lips and the burn of another tongue. He gasped and pulled away, "Is that a yes?"

Briggs traced the curve of Mike's lips and was silent for a while. "This isn't a game, Mike. If you say you want me, then you get me. But I also get you. I don't fuck around with partners."

Mike grinned, his entire body was racing with pleasure. One kiss had him harder than he had ever been and he was aching for more.

"You're mine, Paul Briggs." Mike leaned forward and dragged the man down by the front of his shirt. Their lips touched and everything became a blur.

Mike couldn't remember the last time he had breathed so well.

_A/N:_ Haven't written anything in a very long time now. Tell me how it is, please. This is my first fic for Graceland.

Please Review. Thank you.


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